Will Winnie the Pooh Ever Find Freedom?

Amish friendship bread really isn’t Amish at all. Many believe the concept began in Germany in the 1860s. The idea behind it is simple:

Make a yeast bread starter.
Split the starter in half and use your half to make an amazing loaf of bread.
Eat take your loaf
Then take the recipe, and the other half of the starter to a friend’s house.
Let the cycle begin again.

William Shakespeare was a fan of this type of literary friendship bread. Born in 1564, Shakespeare is considered to be the greatest English writer. His most famous works are Hamlet, Othello, King Lear, McBeth, and Romeo and Juliet. But it’s important to know this titan of literature, this king of playwrights, wasn’t an expert at creating original stories.

Instead, he was an expert at taking stories and making them better, adding his own value. For instance, he used the story or Hamlet by Thomas Kidd to create his story of Hamlet. Othello came from the book “Un Capitan Moro” by Giovanni Battista Giraldi (also known by his pen name Cinthio). King Lear and Macbeth came from the Hollinshed Chronicles, a compilation of stories. But the real friendship bread, is Romeo and Juliet.

Back in the year 8 AD, a contemporary of Augustus named Ovid, wrote a 15-volume poem collection called Metamorphoses, and it in it, he included the story of Pyramus and Thisbee. It was the story of a couple whose love was forbidden by their parents.

That story was then borrowed by Jeffrey Chaucer in 1380, in the making of his story, The Legend of a Good Woman. Italian writer Masuchio Salerna Terno used it to create the first version of Romeo and Juliet.

90 years later in 1566, Arthur Brooke retold it in his poem, “The Tragical History of Romius and Juliet.” That’s when Shakespeare got involved and wrote the play “Romeo and Juliet.”

Among others, in 1935, Prokovief turned it into a ballet. And in 1957, Leonard Bernstein and Steven Sondheim turned the story into a Broadway musical called “West Side Story.” Ovid’s story of Pyramus and Thisbee retold as West Side Story was nominated for six Tony Awards, including Best Musical.

While each rendition or derivative of a story is new, a judge in the Ninth Circuit Court handling a copyright case said this type of piggybacking on the steps of others is why there has been nothing new in society since the invention of fire.

Nevertheless, no one would ever confuse the award-winning Broadway musical West Side Story, with the first century story of “Pyramus and Thisbee.” This type of shared creativity exists across the creative and scientific communities.

Consider the Blues. They originated in the posts of War South. They were originally passed on as an oral tradition, as most historians would tell you, but in reality, the low literacy rate as a result of slavery, segregation, and horrible race relations led to them never being written down.

It wasn’t until 1912 that W.C. Handy began to pen the old songs. It is here we find the essence of the blues, in a riff called the 12-bar blues. Looking back, it’s easy to trace the origin and path of the 12-bar blues. It would go on to change music forever, and as the reason R&B and rock and roll exist.

Even today you can hear it in early rock classics like Johnny B. Good, Hound Dog, and Tootie Fruity, Rock Around the Clock, and in songs by Buddy Holly, Johnny Cash and Little Richard.  And even in current songs by U2, John Mayer, ACDC and Eric Clapton.

It would be hard to imagine music if everyone was forced to start from scratch, leaving the 12-bar blues to only one musician.

Which brings us to the hero of our story, Alan Alexander Milne, who actually is an original storyteller. Born in 1880 in London, he grew up in a school atmosphere, for his dad was headmaster of Henley House School, where incidentally, H. G. Wells was one of his professors.

Alan graduated with a degree in mathematics, writing for the school magazine along the way. After graduation, he secured a job at Punch, the leading British humor pre-radical. It’s there that he became friends with the top writers of the day, like Peter Pan’s J.M. Berry and Sherlock Holmes’ Arthur Conan Doyle.

Outside of his work at Punch, he wrote 18 plays, 3 novels, and 4 screenplays that were turned into movies. His writing took a turn though in 1920, when he became a father, adding a new focus to his writing.

In 1924, he published a poem titled Teddy Bear in Punch, based on the stuffed toy his son played with, and he published a book of children’s poetry. And then on Christmas Eve 1925, he published a story about a teddy bear, called “The Wrong Sort of Bees” in the London Evening newspaper. That story garnered so much attention, he published a book about the bear the following year, titled Winnie the Pooh.

The book was an instant success selling 35,000 copies in the UK and 150,000 in America. The book was translated into 50 languages, and is still the only book written in Latin to become a New York Times bestseller.

Winnie the Poohs notoriety didn’t go unnoticed, a new young and aggressive licensing agent in New York City saw them merchandising potential in Pooh, and wanted to add him to his growing list of clients. He already had author Zane Gray and journalist Andy Rooney.

His name was Stephen Slesinger. In 1930, Slesinger sailed to England on a mission to get Winnie the Pooh. A.A. Milne was proud of the success of the book and eager to see more revenues from it.

He accepted Slessinger’s $1,000 advance offer and 3% of the merchandising revenue. And two years later, Slessinger returned to secure the TV movie and radio rights.

Though the U.S. was deep in the depression, Slessinger found success, licensing Winnie the Pooh, for toys, clothes, and dishes. He also created a board game with Parker Brothers, and had the actor Jimmy Stewart, narrate an RCA record.

The fame took a toll on AA Milne and his family.

During the 30s and 40s, he wanted to get away from children’s literature. Though he penned more stories and plays, the world typecast him as the Winnie the Pooh Guy, leaving him bitter and without further success.

Winnie the Pooh would be his legacy.

At the same time, back in the US, a young animator was eager to acquire the kind of success Milne had achieved. A young, Walt Disney and his friend, Obie Werks had created an animated movie studio and were finding some success in the children’s market.

It is important to remember that Walt Disney and Obie Werks were animators at heart, who just needed stories to bring to life. As a startup with little money, however, they needed stories they didn’t have to pay for. They needed stories so old, the stories were in the public domain.

Walt grew up hearing Grimm’s fairy tales, which were written in 1812, and decided to start with some of those. Remember the Copyright Clause in the Constitution, where Congress was granted the power to secure exclusivity rights to authors and inventors?

Well, back in 1812 the Grimm Fairy Tale days, the Brother’s Grimb were given 14 years of exclusivity rights, and if they wanted, they could get 14 more years of copyright protection if they just renewed their copyright.

They had 28 years to make money from their fairytales. After that, they became part of the public domain. The public domain was like Amish friendship bread, where the others could take and make something of their own from it.

Disney was sure their story of Snow White was free to use, and in 1938 produced their first blockbuster movie around it. Like Romeo and Juliet and the 12-bar blues, Disney put their own signature on a Brother’s Grimm tale, making it something new. Disney would use this strategy over and over in building their empire.

Their second film, Pinocchio, was based on an 1883 book by Italian author, Carlo Coloddi. And in this case, they released the movie the year the story became part of the public domain.

With their third movie, Fantasia, they branched out into public domain music, using a list of classical pieces and a story from Hans Christian Andersen. At each step of the way, Disney took inspiration from stories and created something new and fantastic.

Having some money in the bank, Disney was scouting around for new children’s stories and took a keen interest in Winnie the Pooh. But Walt’s brother Roy uncovered a problem. A.A. Milne had already sold the TV and movie rights to Slesinger, and since the story was new, it wasn’t yet in the public domain.

In fact, the law had changed in the US back in 1909. The 28 years that existed for the Brothers Grimm had been replaced with a new copyright law. Winnie the Pooh was given 28 years of protection to start, and another 28 years if they renewed their copyright. It wouldn’t be until 1982, before Disney could make a Winnie the Pooh movie royalty-free.

And unfortunately for Disney, A.A. Milne had registered his copyright, something that is required for copyright protection, and also something that people often forget. Forgetting can have good and bad consequences. Since Congress was supposed to promote the progress of science and useful arts, the requirement to register your copyright was a useful tool.

Less than 10% of all creative works make any money for the author. And because of that, science and art benefits when others get to use it. Kind of like the Amish friendship-bread idea.

If all art and science was blocked from others to use and build upon, there would be a creative void for sure. While forgetting to register your copyright sounds awful, it can have amazing results.

One famous example begins with Philip Van Doran Stern. He was born in 1900 and grew up with a fascination of the Civil War. As an adult, he wrote Civil War books, and just to be part of the book community, worked at Simon and Schuster. 

There, he actually worked in the public domain department. For Simon and Schuster, he took long forgotten stories, like the words of Henry David Thoreau or Edgar Allen Poe or Abraham Lincoln, and created new books.

One of those books was Charles Dickens, a Christmas Carol. One night, after rereading it and inspired by the story, he had an idea of his own, and wrote his own short story based on it, called “The Greatest Gift.” But despite working for a publisher, he couldn’t find anyone to publish it.

So in 1939 he printed it and sent it as his Christmas card to family and friends. And the next year he actually convinced Reader’s Scope and Good Housekeeping Magazine to buy it. He sent pitches everywhere.

One of those pitches landed on the desk of Cary Grant at RKO Pictures. He loved it. And RKO paid Philip Van Doran Stern $10,000 for the movie rights, to which they quickly sent over to Frank Capra at Liberty Films.

Frank loved it and put in motion the production of it using Jimmy Stewart as the lead. In 1946, just in time for Christmas, it hit theaters, titled “It’s a Wonderful Life.” But the movie was a flop.

It brought in just over $500,000 on its $2.3 million dollar budget. It bankrupt Liberty Films and largely ended the career of Frank Capra.

Over the years, more holidays movies were made and “It’s a Wonderful Life” was forgotten. In 1974, when its first copyright term ended, “It’s a Wonderful Life” wasn’t renewed and it became part of the public domain.

TV Studios eager to fill time with inexpensive holiday movies began showing “Its a Wonderful Life” every year, and because of that, over the next 20 years it would become a Christmas classic right next to a Charlie Brown Christmas.

All because they failed to renew their copyright. In the case of Winnie the Pooh, Stephen Slesinger didn’t live long enough to see the end of the first copyright turn. He passed away in 1953, bequeathing his rights and licenses to his widow, Shirley.

And not only Winnie the Pooh, Stephen had acquired the rights to Charlie Chaplin, Tarzan, Buck Rogers, Alley-oop, Blondie and Dagwood and Dick Tracy, and he had even created a character of his own, complete with comic books, Red Rider.

Shirley was overwhelmed with all that she had to manage and just froze, not knowing what to do for three years. And as the money started to slow and she had to sell her home, she decided she had to do something. Her favorite of all Stephen’s clients was Winnie the Pooh.

She began designing new products for Pooh and even planned a TV show. She’d met with every retailer like Lord and Taylor, Bonwit Teller, Marshall Fields, Macy’s, Philenes, and Neiman Marcus., but just didn’t think she had the resources to take it any further on her own.

That’s when she met Walt Disney.

Disney wanted to make Pooh into a TV show and wanted to take on all the work and give Shirley a 4% royalty. Shirley was more than excited and met Walt at the Waldorf Astoria in New York City in 1961 to sign the papers.

By 1961, Disney had become a juggernaut, having finished their 55th movie. Dumbo, Bambi, Cinderella, Alice in Wonderland, Robinhood and Peter Pan, had all been part of the public domain.

Other movie houses saw how lucrative public domain stories were. Thus the twentieth century was flush with Tarzan, Robin Hood, King Arthur, Zorro, Peter Pan, and The Three Musketeers’ movies and books. And even the Bible became a source for movies, like the Ten Commandments. 

In its early days, Disney had actually created an original character, though. They took an old Buster Keaton film Steamboat Bill and animated it with a mouse. On November 10, 1928, they released Steamboat Willie, complete with a new character, Mickey Mouse.

According to Copyright Law, they would get exclusive rights to Mickey for 28 years plus 28 years, plus 28 years. Meaning, Mickey would enter the public domain in 1984. Even though they had built their empire on the Amish friendship-bred model, Mickey Mouse entering the public domain for others to use would be a problem for Disney.

So they began lobbying Congress to update their antiquated 1909 copyright law, one that had been written before TV and movies and also didn’t jive with other nation’s laws. In 1976, their lobbying paid off. President Ford signed the Copyright Act of 1976 that decimated the 1909 law in every way.

The new law not only extended the creator’s rights, but also expanded who qualified for the rights. No longer would creators need to register their copyright, now it would exist the moment the work was publicly published or released. In the 28 and 28 year rule was replaced with the author’s lifetime plus 50 years for individuals and a fixed length of 75 years for anonymous works and corporations.

It was the first time Congress put the rights of authors and inventors ahead of the constitutional provision to promote the progress of science and useful arts. And for Disney, it moved Mickey Mouse’s public domain date from 1984 to 2003. But Disney’s fight didn’t end there. As the year 2000 was approaching, it was more than Mickey that was at stake.

Pluto and goofy would also be public domain, shortly thereafter. So in 1988, Congress passed another copyright law. This time, just an extension that many refer to as the Mickey Mouse Preservation Act. Instead of life plus 50 years, now authors and inventors would get exclusive rights to their work for their entire life plus 70 years. Corporations would get 95 years after publication. Not only would that extend Disney’s reign on the mouse, but Winnie The Pooh.

After having made the deal with Shirley Schlesinger in 1961, Disney made a deal with Sears to be the official retailer of Winnie the Pooh, an agreement that ended in 1994. With the Sears deal expired and copyright extension done, Disney set out to meet with the Shirley one last time to clear up all future royalty rights. 

They paid her $352 million for the full rights to Winnie the Pooh.

Since the internet and digital rights weren’t contemplated in previous agreements, now, royalty-free, Disney started the Winnie the Pooh money-making machine. They immediately released the Tigger movie, Piglet’s Big Movie, Pooh’s Heffalump movie, and the live action Christopher Robin.

They released eight Direct to Video Movies, eleven Short Films, two TV series and 11 video games. Disney was all about Winnie the Pooh. Outside of Disney, the copyright extensions ended every part of the Amish friendship bread system.

For 20 years, through 2019, nothing would enter the public domain. The type of piggy backing and growing that created Romeo and Juliet and rock and roll and Snow White was put on hold. And the new law would create an ambiguity that froze many in their tracks.

The University of California has a library of 8.7 million digital volumes. In it are over 100,000 ocean science photos and more than 57,000 Mexican music recordings. But since the law took away the requirement that authors and vendors register their work, many of the digital files are subject to copyright law.

Fearing lawsuits, the University of California has locked them away from the public.

The University of Michigan has collections of tapes and paper they want to digitize, but are fearful as well, and thus the tapes get older, and the papers get crusty. The American Historical Association decided to publish a library of Civil War newspapers and editorials they had originally published in 1931, but fear of copyright lawsuits canceled the project.

During the 20-year void created by the extension, creators went back to the old public domain coffers to find fresh stories.

• John Carter came from an old Edgar Rice Burroughs book, the author of Tarzan.
• The island of Dr. Moreau from HG Wells
• The curious case of Benjamin Button from F. Scott Fitzgerald
• Around the World in 80 days from Jules Verne,
• and The Legend of Bagger Vance from scriptures in the Hindu Kita, among others. 

But then in 2019, the 20-year void ended. Creating a slew of new public domain content, Charlie Chaplin, Robert Frost, Cecil B. Demil, Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, The Great Gatsby, and George Orwell’s 1984 Animal Farm. And, mandated by the 2018 Music Modernization Act, 100,000 sound recordings, recorded prior to 1923.

And on January 1st, 2022, Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises, joined the public domain, and for the very first time, AA Milnes, Winnie the Pooh.

The Amash friendship bread culture has begun again in the creative and scientific world.

And in the next 20 years, expect to see new stories based on characters you know and love, like Ian Fleming’s James Bond, King Kong, Conan the Barbarian, Superman, Batman, and Disney’s Mickey Mouse.

There are certainly a balance between what a creator is entitled to receive and keeping the Amish friendship-bred culture going. Now that the 20-year void is over, is the balance correct, or has the pendulum swung too far?

Take the debate, add your thoughts, and pass down.